


Sculpted

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [590]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 19:26:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17028582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: thebaconsandwichofregret askedPrompt: Virgil and sculpting





	Sculpted

“Hold still.”

“I feel ridiculous.”

“I said  _hold still_.”

Hiram rolled his eyes but stayed still.  He hoped he wasn’t allergic to laurel – his crown was starting to  _itch_.  “Why can’t you sketch me like one of your French ladies?”

“What do you think I do when you sleep in?”

“What?”

“What?” Virgil peeked up, eyes dancing as he feigned deafness.  “And hold still.”

“How long does a sculpture take?”

“Oh, ages and ages.”

“It’s just soon I’ll need to pee.”

That got him another appearance, this time to deliver an eyeroll.  “Here I am romantically making your bust, and you lower the tone like  _that.”_ He vanished again out of Hiram’s eyeline.  “And this is just the model.  It’s like a sketch made of clay.  The real thing will be a surprise.”  Hiram sat frozen in placed and tried to ignore his bladder filling.  “Okay, done you can relax.”  

As he turned, a small glob of wet clay flew out and landed on his bare shoulder. “Hey!” Brains protested.

Virgil was grinning as he stood, cricking his neck painfully.  His hands were muddy, and there was a smudge on his cheek.  “It’s lucky,” Virgil told him as Hiram used his sheet to clean off the rusty-red smudge.  “Lemme just clean up while you put your pants back on….”

He’s already turned towards the deep sinks in the corner of the studio.  Hiram ignores his clothes, neatly hanging from hooks, and instead stepped lightly around to look at the model.  “Oh my…”

“Oh, H, it’s just a reference…”

“Is this how you see me?” he breathed, leaning in to take every finger-printed inch of the clay figurine, reclined decadently, radiating repose.

“Well, yes.”

Hiram turned to where Virgil was nervously drying his hands, raised an eyebrow, and dropped his towel.

Virgil blushed, gently draped his towel over the figurine, and led Hiram back to the chaise longue.


End file.
